


do you wave your brassiere at me, miss?

by intrepidment



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Comedic Teenage Hormones Shenanigans, F/M, Romance, michelle keeps taking her bra off and peter is Not Affected by It™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 11:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11782323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intrepidment/pseuds/intrepidment
Summary: Peter questions his sanity on a Tuesday afternoon when Michelle casually reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra before depositing it on his bed.He assumes it'll only be the one time, but then it keeps happening.





	do you wave your brassiere at me, miss?

Peter questions his sanity on a Tuesday afternoon when Michelle casually reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra before depositing it on his bed.

It should be mentioned that she's still wearing her shirt and she removed the bra with it on through the sleeve of her shirt in that way girls do that he can never figure out- a fact that Peter is unsure whether he is disappointed or relieved about.

It should also be mentioned that Peter has no idea what is happening.

Zero clue. Zilch. Nada. Nothing. 

(It's a slippery slope he's riding here.) 

Michelle is his first female friend who's achieved the privilege of being invited to his home on a regular basis. Admittedly, said privilege isn't that hard to obtain nor particularly sought after by others since his only other friend is Ned who initially became friends with him out of a shared mutual status as outcasts and a common interest in Star Wars, but still. The only other reoccurring females in his life aside from those in the Avengers (all of which rarely, if  _ever_ , talk about their personal lives) is Aunt May, and while she often goes braless at home, he's fairly certain that's she's never taken off her bra in a person's place where she's not romantically involved with the occupant just for kicks.

At least, he hopes she doesn't. He really, really, really hopes she doesn't.

Peter cringes, rubs the bridge of his nose. This line of thought about Aunt May is making him feel nauseous.

Beside him, Michelle offers no outward reaction to what she just did. She's still going over her notes for next week's exam, normal as can be. Did she not realise what a monumental moment this was? He's unversed in the formulae of modern etiquette, but he's pretty sure that taking off your bra in front of someone who isn't your boyfriend or girlfriend is a Big Deal. Capital letters necessary. It has to be, right?

Peter glances surreptitiously back at the bra. It's black and plain, save for the white threading on the edges. Nothing much to look at, in the scheme of things.

And yet.

Okay, he's definitely staring now. Michelle will never let him live it down if she notices. Time to abort. Avert gaze,  _avert gaze_.

Peter looks down at the carpet. Carpet is good. Carpet is safe. He's never been so grateful for carpet before. There's a red stain that he's pretty sure is dried blood from the cut he received last night from a wayward robber who had been armed with a knife. He'll have to try and clean that later on before Aunt May sees it.

Peter shakes his head at himself, tries to consider the situation at hand rationally. 

Like he said before: Michelle is his first female friend. So maybe this  _is_ normal? For her? Michelle's mentioned more than once that she's never had friends before this, so maybe the removal of her bra is a sign of trust? A strange, slightly (see: completely) messed up sign of trust, sure, but it would fit Michelle's modus operandi pretty well if he really thinks about it. This is, after all, a girl who once spent her free time in detention for no other reason than to mock everyone else's misfortune.

Adherence to conformity, Michelle did not do. 

He's probably overthinking things. Scratch that, he's  _definitely_ overthinking things. But can you blame him? There's a braon his bed. Michelle is currently braless under her shirt.

In his bedroom.

The thought should not affect him as much as it does.

 _Friends,_ Peter reminds himself firmly,  _Michelle and I are just friends._

It's a mantra that Peter's found that he's been repeating more often than not lately; both aloud to others, and to himself. 

A hand nudges his shoulder, and Peter glances up to see Michelle peering at him with a raised brow. "You alright there, dweeb?"

"Huh? I mean, yes." Peter is ashamed to say that his voice is noticeably higher than it should be. 

Michelle looks faintly amused, but doesn't question him further. "We should memorise the last three chapters by the way. I'm certain they'll be part of the multiple choice section."

Peter drags the chemistry textbook towards him and nods rapidly as he turns to the pages in question. "Yeah, of course."

He pushes the thought of the bra, and Michelle's state of bralessness out his mind. There's no use stressing over it, he reasons to himself.

It's probably a one-time thing, anyway.

* * *

Turns out, he's wrong: it's not a one-time thing.

(But what else is new, really?)

In fact, it's less of a one-time thing, and more of a once-every-day kind of thing.

The routine goes like this:

Open front door. Close bedroom door. Bag down. Bra off.

Exactly in that order. 

Peter's taken to banning Ned when Michelle comes over, which is beginning to make him very suspicious of them, but he'd rather face suspicion than have Ned see Michelle without a bra on. 

He's not being possessive. Really. He's just...protective. Of Michelle. Their friend.

Whom he does  _not_  harbour any secret romantic feelings towards that has been steadily growing in the past few months. 

That's all.

Ahem.

Seriously though, he wouldn't have a problem at all if Michelle decided to just Free the Nipple around them and went sans bra all the time. It's entirely her choice and he respects her. It's just that there's something obviously intimate about the fact that it's only in his bedroom that she did it, and he didn't want anyone else to see that if he could help it. Including Ned.

See? Not possessive.

* * *

Michelle, it turns out, owns a lot of bras.  _A lot._  He didn't even know it was possible to have that many bras. Mostly they're black in varying degrees of detail and fabric, but sometimes they're green and blue and once, a shimmery looking purple one.

Peter doesn't know what to do with this knowledge, and he's not sure if it's knowledge he's even allowed to retain.

Obviously, asking her is out of the question lest she realises he thinks about her undergarments far too much to be construed as friendly platonic interest, so he mostly bites his tongue and tries not to stare when she flings off her bra on the nearest surface which is normally his bed. 

Today, the bra is a bright turquoise that's impossible to ignore. It stands out stark against his bedsheets like a neon sign. Michelle's Bra, it's practically screaming at him. Peter wishes his eyesight wasn't so good because he can see the words  _Victoria's Secret_  clearly etched on the label attached to it from across the room. 

Lingerie. He's looking at Michelle's  _lingerie_.

Peter shifts, uncomfortably. Crap. 

"You'll need to improve your English marks or else you're off the decathlon team," Michelle tells him succinctly. She's sitting on his work desk (he has a perfectly functioning chair, but apparently the desk is, 'far more comfortable for productivity') and twirling a pencil around her fingers like she usually does except the white top she's wearing is made out of some sort of sheer material and with the remainder of the afternoon sunlight filtering in through the open window and all, he can sort of see- well.  _You know._

He can see a lot, okay?

This is one of those moments where thinking about Flash is good for, um,  _calming_  his well-being. 

Thank god his sweatpants are loose, is all he can say. 

Peter swallows, rewinds back to the time Flash poured his water bottle down his pants and he had to walk around the entirety of the school day looking like he pissed himself and politely directs his gaze out the window because he's a gentleman, and Uncle Ben and Aunt May brought him up well.

"Peter, are you listening? Peter.  _Look at me_."

Of course, neither Aunt May nor Uncle Ben  _quite_  explained how he should act in this sort of situation. He's not sure if that's a good thing or not. It certainly would have saved him the hours he spent trying to figure out what this all meant.

Maybe.

Peter does as she directs him and makes a concentrated effort to keep his eyes solely on her face.  _Dear eyes, please don't stray._ "Sorry, MJ. Yeah, I'll try to study more. It's just, y'know, tough with the whole being Spider-Man and all." He fidgets on his feet. "It's not just English. All my marks in every subject have gone down."

Mr Stark and Aunt May had both already lectured him on seperate occasions about it when he showed them his report. Well, showed Aunt May his report.

Mr Stark had found out by hacking into the school server and stealing it. 

Michelle softens at that. "I know, but you have to try. Your alter-ego can't take over your life. Spider-Man isn't everything, despite what you might think. You almost never attend the meetings, and don't repeat this to anyone because I'll deny it, I swear to god, but you're one of the smartest people I know and you're my friend, so I want you to stay on the team. Okay?"

"Okay," Peter promises, and he knows he'll try because it's Michelle and he always listens to her.

Always. 

And then Michelle goes to hug him, her nipples through her shirt pressed against his chest, and Peter blacks out for a good ten seconds.

* * *

There's a particularly gruelling week of white and black bralettes with the most complicated and strappiest of straps he's ever seen, and Peter sort of wants to die right then and there because apparently, they've reached a point where Michelle won't even bother putting it back on before she goes home; just leaves them where she left it at his place and takes it back whenever she's bothered to.

He finds a lacy black bra under his pillow (How?  _How?!_ ) one night and before he realises what he's doing, he's jerking off to the thought of Michelle wearing that and nothing else and it's simultaneously the most confusing and hottest image his mind has ever conjured, and that includes real-life experiences with girls he's actually dated. 

Frustrated doesn't even  _begin_  to cover what he's feeling.  

Peter changes the sheets after he's done and throws them into the wash at 3am in the morning, then goes out on patrol as Spider-Man with a plan to get his mind off of everything that's jumbled up in his head.

(This, predictably, fails when Michelle unexpectedly texts him because  _surprise,_ she's awake too, and he ends up hanging out with her on the roof of her house talking aimlessly about nothing and everything until dawn breaks out.)

* * *

The bottom drawer of his cupboard now has more than ten of her brassieres stashed there, and when May stumbles upon it while putting away his laundry, she gives him an updated version of The Talk during dinner which includes handing him no less than three boxes of condoms -  _"I was a teenager once, too, Peter. I know how hormones work."_  - and making him swear that he'll use protection every time.

"Exactly how much sex did you think we're having?" he sputters, juggling the boxes in his arms when Aunt May refuses to take even one of them back. "Just to be clear, we're not having sex. MJ just has a habit of taking off her bra when she's over here. I swear, nothing's happening between us!"

"Do you honestly think I'll believe that excuse?" Aunt May asks with a forlorn sigh when he's done talking. There's something like pity in her eyes, like she's just crestfallen that she didn't raise a teenager with better bluffing skills. 

Peter stops trying to explain himself not long after that because yeah, it does sound pretty unbelievable when he says it out loud. 

* * *

"I hope you know that Aunt May thinks we're having sex."

"Right now? Wow, we must be really good if we can do it clothed and without touching each other."

"MJ. I meant she thinks we're having sex in the...general sense of the word."

"Oh?" Michelle intones with a half-curious lilt in her tone. She's lying back on his bed reading a copy of  _Rebecca_ and he's trying not to think about how he's going to go to sleep tonight with his sheets smelling like her. "How come?" 

Peter takes a deep breath. "She found the drawer I have with your...under...things." And wow, he feels like a loser right now.

He can't even say the word  _bra._

It's finally official. He's been reduced to a prepubescent again. Three cheers to him. Hooray.

"Hm." Michelle sets the book down and stretches, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him properly. "Does it bother you?"

Peter is confused. "May thinking we're sleeping together?"

Michelle shakes her head, smirking a bit. "Me taking off my bra when I'm over at your place."

He ponders.

 _Yes. Maybe. I don't know. I just know that m_ _y mind goes blank around you even more than it usually does._ _I can't figure out if that's a good thing or not._ _Last night I touched myself thinking about you, and the ridiculous amount of lingerie you own, and it wasn't the first time it's happened. And you're in my bed right now, tangled in my sheets and looking like you belong there, so it probably won't be the last because now I'll have this image ingrained in my brain forever as well. MJ, you drive me_ crazy.  _I think I like you more than a friend, more than a best friend, but I don't want to wreck things between us._

He doesn't say any of that, of course.

Instead, he says offhandedly, "No, I'm fine with it."

There's a pause.

"Really?"

"Yep," he manages to get out in a relatively normal tone. "It's your body and you have the liberty to do whatever you want with it. Including taking off your bra in my room."

There. That sounds like something she would approve of him saying. 

"I'm already aware of that," Michelle replies in a less than enthused voice. "But that's great. Good for you."

Is it just him or does she look sort of disappointed in him?

* * *

It's probably just him. 

* * *

Eventually, he has to ask someone. He  _has_ to _._

"So dude, has MJ ever, uh, taken her bra off when you're alone together?"

"What." 

Peter raises his voice a little louder than a whisper. "Has MJ ever-"

Ned interrupts, his voice cutting him off over the phone. "No, I heard what you said, what I meant was  _what the fuck, Peter?_ "

"Just answer the question, okay?" Peter says heatedly. 

"No," Ned replies slowly in disbelief, like he can't believe this is happening, "MJ has never taken off her bra when we're alone together."

"Huh. Okay, then. Thanks."

"...I really hate it when you guys include me in your kinky games. Please  _don't_  send me photos when you two finally decide to-"

Peter ignores him and hangs up on him mid-sentence.

* * *

"I don't wear bras so I can't be sure, but is it a comfort thing?"

Michelle pauses before sliding the bra out of her sleeve - teal this time, with black bows - and turning towards him. Peter's question is directed to the ceiling, though the sight is soon replaced by Michelle towering over him with a withering look.

"A comfort thing?"

Peter slides back in his seat, scratches the back of his neck as he figures out what to say next. "I mean, Aunt May says that the best thing at the end of the day is taking her bra off, and I've read that wearing a bra is really restricting because it encases your, um, body parts so is that why you take it off when you're here?"

Michelle furrows her brow and opens her mouth as if to say something, then reconsiders it. "Yeah," she says finally. "Sure, it's a comfort thing. Bras are great for stability and sports, but they leave indents in your skin and if it's a new bra or one you don't like you have to spend the entire day adjusting it so it doesn't irritate you. It's always a relief to take it off."

Peter reaches out, rubs a spot on her shoulder through her top where he imagines the strap of the bra would have left an imprint underneath. Michelle's eyes meet his in surprise. "That must suck," he tells her in a voice that comes lower than he intends to. 

Michelle nods, moves closer to him silently, and his thumb accidentally slips to press against the bare skin of her collarbone. It's ridiculous to be turned on by a sliver of skin, and yet he is.

With Michelle, he's slowly coming to realise, it doesn't take much to feel undone by her.

Not much at all. 

Peter jerks back to the present when Michelle says, "It does. But there's other good things about them too." She licks her lips, and Peter follows the movement, his mouth suddenly feeling a bit dry. "They can also be a great tool of sexual empowerment."

"Oh," Peter hears himself say faintly. He clears his throat. "That's...good. Great. Fantastic. I'm all about empowerment. Especially of the sexual variety. I've actually been telling people that for years." He nods. "Everyone I know is aware that I wholeheartedly support sexual empowerment."

A smile curves the corner of Michelle's mouth. " _I_ didn't know that."

"Well, you should hang out with me more."

Michelle scoffs and lets out a little laugh, bumps her shoulder against his lightly. "Peter, I'm like, one of the only two friends you have. We see each other practically every day."

Peter's hand moves upwards, tucks the a stray ringlet of hair that has fallen across her face behind her ear. "That's true," he admits. "Doesn't mean that I'm still not grateful for any time we get to spend together though."

He leans forward, thinks to himself,  _this is it_.

Michelle's lashes flutter close. 

His phone chooses that moment to go off, the ringtone loud and obnoxious. Peter lets out a curse under his breath.

Michelle leans back, her expression neutral. "You better pick that up. It could be important."

"Yeah," he agrees, albeit reluctantly, "I should." 

The phone call is indeed important. Mr Stark just finished the amendments on the final upgrades in his new Spider-Man suit and wants him to test it out. Now.

Peter doesn't argue with him, even though he really, wholeheartedly wants to. 

By the time he finally gets back, Michelle is providing social commentary for  _The Bachelor_ with Aunt May in the living room and he's too nervous to ask her if they really were about to kiss earlier. 

* * *

A week later, it's his birthday which he almost forgets because he's been so busy with school and the crazy amount of criminals that have popping up lately, and he celebrates it with a large private dinner that includes Aunt May, Ned, and the rest of the Avengers. The theme of the party is Spider-Man (Ned's idea, not his) and it isn't until he enters the building that he realises how self-absorbed it seems having posters of Spider-Man strewn everywhere and streamers of blue, red and black falling from the ceiling in a place that could fit his home several times over. 

Despite this, he doesn't mind the extravagance too much- especially when he sees that the cake is in the shape of giant Death Star. He swears Ned tears up a little when he cuts out the first slice and presents it to him. 

Michelle is conspicuously missing though. Someone  _must_ have invited her, surely. Peter tries not to let it bother him, but his dismay must show up on his face anyway, because halfway through the party, Mr Stark turns to him and asks him bluntly, "Missing the girlfriend, kid?"

"She's not my-" he begins to protest, but then gives up. There's no point arguing. Nobody seems to believe him when he tells them that they aren't dating. "Yeah, I miss MJ. Do you happen to know where she might be?"

"Nope." And with that, Mr Stark walks away to look for Pepper. 

"Thanks, Mr Stark. Good talk. You were so helpful," Peter mumbles sarcastically into his cup of punch. 

"What was that?"

"Vision!" Peter yelps, almost quite literally jumping two feet in the air. "You really need to stop popping up out of nowhere like that."

"I apologise, Mr Parker. I can't help but notice that you are not enjoying the festivities in celebration of your birth as much as I anticipated you would. Is there a reason why?"

Peter decides that out of everyone, Vision is the least likely to tease him. "I sort of expected another person to be here. MJ. Michelle Jones. I think you might have met her before?"

Vision nods. "Ah, yes. I do seem to recall a Ms Jones visiting the Avengers facility on multiple occasions- primarily when you've been confined to the medical bay for sustaining injuries that could have otherwise been avoided."

Peter bristles. "I wouldn't say  _all_ those injuries could have been avoided. I mean-"

"No, I can assure you that those injuries could have been avoided had it not been on your age and developmental capacities."

"It's always so nice talking to you," Peter remarks to the android tepidly when he realises that what Vision just said was essentially:  _Y_ _ou got hurt because you're a dumb emotional kid_. 

"Thank you. Unfortunately, I am actually here to tell you that your aunt has advised you to make haste back to your home."

Peter looks at Vision in alarm. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is perfectly fine. Your aunt has decided to retire in one of the spare rooms here for the evening. She only insists that you go home right at this minute."

Peter looks around at everyone mingling and making conversation at each other in confusion. "Are you serious? But- the party hasn't ended yet. Am I getting kicked out of  _my own party?_ "

"It appears so," Vision affirms glibly before dematerialising into the floor.

Great. Just  _great_.

* * *

Peter exits the building and feels like the entire world is conspiring against him because it's his birthday and he's the first person to leave the party. Then again, Aunt May was probably just worried he hadn't had enough sleep lately since she's been commenting on the dark circles under his eyes.

He didn't realise she'd be this strict about getting him to sleep at the cost of his own birthday party though.

Peter's just entered the apartment a little after eleven, and switched on the light in his bedroom when a voice quietly piques up, "So, happy birthday."

Instinctively, he leaps onto the ceiling. On his bed below him, Michelle gives him a bemused wave. "Still can't get used to that," she tells him.

Peter falls back to the floor on his feet. Michelle is here. She's all bundled up with the covers up to her neck as if it's freezing when it's actually quite warm in his room. "Why weren't you at the party?"

"I wanted to surprise you."

"I'm surprised," he assures her.

She nods, and then blurts out, "I didn't get you a present. On account of you being an idiot."

Peter blinks and feels a bit hurt at her admission. "Wait, what did I do?"

Michelle sighs loudly. "Nothing. That's sort of the point. All these weeks, and I've gotten  _nothing_  from you."

"What?"

"Just think about it. I'll wait." Michelle looks at him expectantly. 

All these weeks? What was she talking about-oh.

Everything leading up to now flashes in his mind.

His eyes widen.  _Oh._

Holy shit.

"MJ. Michelle. Have you been trying to... _seduce_  me?" His voice raises to an undignified pitch near the end of the question. 

Michelle lets out a thoughtful sound. "Seduce is probably pushing it, but whatever, I didn't intend to. Well, not at first, anyway. I actually do find it liberating not wearing a bra. But I guess I had a bit too much fun teasing you after I saw you. Get hard," she clarifies further at his inquiring look. 

Peter flushes. "Jesus, MJ."

"I can't believe you thought you could hide it from me every time I took my bra off." Michelle lets out a faux mournful sigh. "So many wasted hard ons for me that could have been resolved in fun ways." Peter chokes audibly at that. "I thought the signals I was giving was pretty clear, but apparently I forgot that I'm dealing with a clueless superhero."

"You're the strangest girl I've ever met," Peter says in an almost awed voice.

"I'm about to get stranger," Michelle says lightly after a moment. "I'm naked under here, you know."

Peter freezes.

"Naked," he repeats.

He hopes this isn't a dream. Prays it, even. 

If it is, he's not sure he'll survive the disappointment.

"Well, almost naked. In the  _general sense_  of the word," she teases. "I have my bra on- figured  _you_  might want to try taking it off me for a change. You might want to shed a few layers though. I want us to be on even playing field, after all." 

Peter reaches behind the collar of his shirt and pulls it off in one fluid motion as he approaches her in three strides. She gives him an appreciative once-over (he  _might_ have flexed and preened here a bit), and he tosses the shirt in a heap in the corner of the room. "Done."

Michelle sits up and lets the sheet slide off her revealing smooth skin, and a torso clad in a bright red bra. It's the exact same shade as his Spider-Man suit.

Peter quirks an eyebrow at her and Michelle rolls her eyes. "Don't get a complex, I didn't get this for you. I've had this in my closet forever."

It might be a lie, or it might not be, but either way it doesn't matter.

Not really.

All that matters is that she's even here at all. 

He climbs onto the bed and hauls her over so she's perched on his lap. In response, Michelle wraps both her legs firmly around his waist and slides her arms around his neck.

Peter can't believe that this is happening.

No other birthday will measure up to this one now.

Ever.

"This bra is the best one out of all the ones I've seen," Peter finds himself babbling to her. "You should wear it all the time. Every day. Or not. Just wear nothing. Go braless. Topless."

"Topless? I don't think Midtown is prepared for that," she muses, and then grinds into his groin, once, with a slow, purposeful sort of precision that makes him catch his breath and groan in her shoulder.

" _Fuck_ , you're right. Forget I said that. I think I'm dying."

"Honestly, Peter. I know I'm basically the best thing that's happened to you, but dramatic much?"

"I can't help it. I think I might actually die tonight."

He slides his hand behind her back as he speaks and undoes the clasp of her bra in one go, thank god. She wriggles it off the rest of the way and throws it somewhere behind them on the floor without looking. Presses her forehead against his. "You talk waytoo much," she murmurs, but the inflection is fond.

"Bad habit, sorry. Runs in the family."

Michelle laughs, and then kisses him. He returns the kiss immediately, tongue sweeping her bottom lip, biting gently, and when she parts her mouth in a gasp, he tastes something bitter and sweet and dark, and truly, wholly Michelle. It's a first kiss, but it doesn't feel like one; it feels like they've done this before- there's a familiarity here, as if they've been in tune with each other for longer than they actually have.

It's not a perfect kiss though - their teeth clank each other with each desperate movement to be closer, closer, closer - but it's raw, and real and everything he's ever wanted. 

One of his hands reaches down and cups her left breast, squeezing, feeling, before thumbing her nipple. It pebbles under his touch. He repeats the action on the other side. Michelle moans against his mouth with each caress, nails digging into his hair, and he can't remember the last time he heard a better sound than that.

She opens her mouth wider against his and for a moment, they're not kissing, just breathing together.

"Bet you wish we did this sooner," Michelle says breathlessly.

"I do, but don't worry. We'll make up for it now," he rasps out just before he captures her lips again. 

Michelle pulls away after a few minutes. Her hair is a wild, frizzy, glorious mess. "Before we go any further- condom. Please tell me you have one."

"Under the bed."

Michelle leans over to grab one and then looks at him in bemusement. "Three boxes? Somebody's an overachiever."

Peter pulls her towards him with a mockingly aggrieved sound. "Don't ask."

* * *

After, sweaty and curled up together in bed, Peter realises something.

"Hang on a sec. Aunt May got Vision to tell me in advance that she was staying for the night at Stark Tower. Did you plan this all with her? Does she know what we're doing right now?" He's scandalised. 

"Well, not the  _specifics_ , obviously. I just said I wanted to have the night with you to myself." Michelle yawns, rolls over into his arm that's resting behind her. "What does it matter, anyway? Everyone already thinks we're sleeping together."

"It's still weird though. And they'll  _definitely_ know that we're sleeping together now."

"Mhmm. Probably." Michelle perks up. "Want to send Ned selfies on Snapchat that'll traumatise him for the next week?"

Peter grins and leans over the bedside table to grab his cellphone.

He loves this girl, he really does.

One day, he'll say it to her too.

Soon.

"You're my favourite person in the world," he declares, and kisses her as he takes the photo, Michelle's answering smile pressed against his lips.

* * *

(They're both wrong, by the way.

It takes a month before Ned can look at either of them in the eye again. Apparently, they screwed up somewhere along the way, and accidentally sent him a ten second video that allegedly 'ruined him for life'.

Still worth it, though. No doubt about it.)

**Author's Note:**

> It wasn't until I wrote this that I realised how passionate I am about bras and going braless, apparently.


End file.
